CAL-NEVA - PART 2
1959
A plastic pinwheel spun round and round like a lucky wheel of fortune, positioned in front of a perfectly straight row of sunflowers in the pristine, razor-cut garden. Jimmy, wearing a blue windbreaker over a white T-shirt, stood by the white picket fence, striking a casual, movie-star sort of pose while he waited for his date to spot him.
Inside, his girlfriend Lina was fixing her hair in front of the opal-shaped mirror in the hallway of her parents’ house when she heard Jimmy whistling Traveling Stranger from across the yard. She liked the tune, even though she was strictly forbidden from playing anything too modern like that in the family home.
In the dining room, Lina's suspicious mother watched Jimmy hawkishly through the slats of the Venetian blinds, pressing them down with her wedding-ringed finger.
“That Holden boy is standing outside again, looking like he’s up to no good.”
“Well, if he can’t come inside, what else do you expect him to do?”
Lina finished adjusting her strawberry-blonde hair and opened the front door wide, greeting Jimmy with her flashbulb smile.
“Hi, stranger!”
She waved at him, hop skipped down the front steps, fresh-faced and carefree, while her disapproving parents followed her out a short way, standing watch from the shade of their front porch.
Squinting at them through the late afternoon sun, Jimmy nodded and offered a small gesture of recognition with his hand as they scrutinised him in silent judgment.
“Evening, Mrs. Brody!”
The hum of a lawnmower across the street offered a welcome distraction as Jimmy noted the noticeably tight-lipped silence of Lina’s parents, their eyes tracking his every move.
“And good evening to you, sir!”
Mr. Brody’s stoic face didn’t budge, his expressionless expression somehow imperceptibly conveying a general suspicion of anything Jimmy might say.
“Hi!” Lina said, beaming at Jimmy.
“Hey.”
“Shall we get out of here?”
“Sure thing—if I can ever escape the tractor beam your daddy’s got fixed on me right this minute.”
“Are they still watching us?”
“Just your pop now. Your mom went inside. Y’know, I'm pretty sure he wants me dead.”
Without turning back around, Lina said a quick goodbye to her father, knowing from experience that eye contact would only lead to an enquiry of some sort and delay her getting out of the permanent Sunday afternoon atmosphere of the house.
“Bye, Daddy!”
And with that, the young couple ran off like a pair of kindergarten kids, never once looking back at Mr. Brody or the white picket fence.
Driving a tow truck emblazoned with the logo for Holden’s Garage, Jimmy put his arm around Lina's shoulders as the wind blew through her hair. She glanced lovingly at him, resting her head on his shoulder as the red-apple evening sun began to sink below the horizon.
Jimmy thought it was as if they were playing a game of chicken with the light, noticing how the sun seemed to be slipping away faster than he could make ground on it.
The Skyliner Diner was lit like a neon beacon in the dusk. Cars and bikes lined the roadside as Jimmy and Lina parked up in the tow truck.
Inside, the diner buzzed like it was the Fourth of July. Packed to the walls, it hummed with jukebox noise, clinking glasses, and the endless motion of excitable teenagers. Jimmy and Lina scanned the crowd for a booth and, as luck would have it, spotted one opening near the entrance just as a roller-skating waitress whizzed past in a blur.
“I’ll be with you guys in just a minute!” she called out.
Jimmy smirked at Lina. “I think she just broke the state speed limit.”
He was halfway into the booth when the bell above the diner door jangled loudly. His face dropped.
“Oh, great.”
Chad Johnson, broad-shouldered and full of menace, strode in with his tight-knit posse of greasers trailing behind him like lieutenants in a second rate war film.
“You don’t need to stand up for me, Holden. I ain’t no lady,” Chad sneered.
“Well, you don’t need to tell me that.”
“Here! Why don’t you let me find you a seat?”
Chad shoved Jimmy into the booth, then strutted off to claim a corner of the diner for himself. His friends sniggered and pointed as they passed.
Jimmy straightened in his seat, brushing off his windbreaker.
“Assholes.”
“Ignore them,” Lina said, calm but alert. She glanced over Jimmy’s shoulder at Chad, now posted at the far end of the diner with his back to them.
“He still wants you.”
“He can want all he likes. It’s never gonna happen.”
Jimmy wasn’t so sure. Chad had that bad-boy appeal that always seemed to snag the prettiest girls in school, even when he didn’t try.
“Well, if it isn’t Romeo and Juliet!”
The roller-skating waitress reappeared, snapping Jimmy out of his jealous daze.
“Hey, Shirley. Would that make you the apothecary?” Lina asked with a grin, showing off the high school Shakespeare she'd studied just last semester. The tragedy had surprised her—it had actually made her cry.
“The apothe-what?” Shirley asked.
“Oh, never mind.”
“What’s with you two today? You look like the cat that got the cream.”
“We did. Whole big vat of the stuff,” Lina said.
“Oh yeah?”
“Jimmy got a tip from a big spender at work.”
Jimmy shot her a look, a silent plea to zip it, but she was too wrapped up in Shirley’s attention to notice.
“Oh, you did, huh? Well, I’ve been looking for a sugar daddy myself.”
Jimmy turned to Lina, visibly uncomfortable.
“You want to broadcast it some more, Lina? Before you know it, I’ll be buying everyone in here a malt.”
“So, who was he? This big spender?” Shirley asked.
“Some guy in a sharkskin suit,” Lina said, ignoring Jimmy’s warning altogether.
Shirley looked to Jimmy, curious.
“Didn’t catch his name. He’s got something going on at the old Cal-Neva.”
Jimmy regretted the words as soon as they left his mouth.
“Cal-Neva, huh? I thought that place burned down years ago,” Shirley mused.
Lina pounced.
“And I thought you didn’t want to talk about it!”
“I’m not a blabbermouth,” Shirley reassured.
“Thanks, Shirley.”
Changing the subject like a seasoned diplomat, she flipped the page on her order pad.
“So, do you guys know what you want off the menu?”
“Yeah, we’ll get a couple of burgers and fries,” Jimmy said.
Shirley scribbled like a doctor writing out a prescription.
“Oh—and a couple of cream sodas!” Lina added.
“So that’s all you’re gettin’, big spender?” Shirley teased, winking. “Isn’t she worth a steak at least?”
Jimmy looked to Lina.
“You want a steak?”
She nodded.
“Two steaks and all the trimmings.”
“Hold the onions?” Shirley asked, catching Lina’s grimace.
Lina grinned. “You know me too well.”
“Okay then. I’ll tell Chef to put his skates on.”
Shirley was about to glide away when Jimmy caught her by the arm. She gave him a sharp look, one eyebrow arched, but Jimmy was oblivious.
“Hey, Shirley. Do me a favor, would you?”
“Okay?”
“Buy a round for my ‘friends’ over there.”
He nodded toward Chad’s table.
“Oh, come on now.”
“Yeah.”
“You don’t wanna waste your money on those no-goods.”
“Just watch me.”
“Okay then. What’ll it be?”
“Get them all a root beer float.”
Shirley blinked.
“You sure are a funny one, Jimmy Holden.”
She spun away and skated off toward the counter.
“I don’t understand why you’re wasting your money like that,” Lina said, half amused, half annoyed.
“I’m buying their souls,” Jimmy said, stretching his arm along the back of the booth. “After all, they’re cheap enough.”
He winked. Lina shook her head, bemused, but couldn’t help smiling.
The stars were out in full force on High Ridge Peak, sparkling like precious stones scattered across the dark velvet sky. Jimmy and Lina sat parked in his father’s old tow truck, tucked into a quiet overlook above the valley.
They kissed, long and slow, as the transistor radio swayed from the rearview mirror, playing some syrupy love song that fit the night like a glove.
Lina pulled back, just slightly.
“What’s the matter?” Jimmy asked.
“Nothing. I got something for you.”
“You do?”
She handed him a small, tissue-wrapped bundle.
“It’s heavy.”
He peeled back the paper slowly. Inside was a steel hip flask, the kind that gleamed even in the dim starlight. It was engraved: “My love will burn for you. ’Til the sun grows cold. XXX”
Jimmy’s face lit up.
“I love it.”
“It looks expensive, though…”
“How’d—?”
“I’m plenty resourceful when I want to be.”
Jimmy unscrewed the cap and took a cautious sniff.
“It’s booze!”
“Well, it sure as hell ain’t chocolate milk. I think it’s Corby’s. Daddy’s got a stash of it in his cabinet.”
Jimmy rolled his eyes.
“You been raiding your dad’s liquor library again?”
“Oh, don’t worry about the old man. I covered my tracks.”
“That’s what I’m worried about,” Jimmy muttered, remembering all too well the times Lina had been caught sneaking bottles from her father’s drink cabinet—which was about as secure as Fort Knox.
“Just go ahead and make us a toast.”
Jimmy paused, distracted by the sheer perfection of the moment.
“Here’s to never looking back.”
He took a swig from the flask, then passed it to Lina. She took a quick pull before they kissed again, their lips tasting faintly of whisky and youth.
They basked in the warmth of it all—the liquor, the music, the closeness. For a moment, they felt like an old married couple, comfortable in their silence.
“Do you think when we’re older, we’ll still be parked up here, watching the same sunset?” Lina asked.
“Won’t be the same sunset, though.”
“Why not?”
“’Cause a sunset can never be exactly the same as the one before it — the conditions that create them are never identical. You’ve got to consider the variety of angles, the atmospheric changes — in all sorts of ways, it’s different.”
“When you talk like that, I still don’t get why you quit school.”
“You know why, Lina.”
She went quiet.
“I’m sorry, Jimmy.”
“Forget it. I have.”
He kissed her more intensely, like he could erase the memory trying to crawl out from behind his eyes.
Then—headlights off—a car crept up beside them, parking just a few feet away.
A sudden blast of a horn split the air like a klaxon, followed by cackling laughter.
Jimmy’s eyes snapped open.
Chad Johnson sat grinning in the driver’s seat of his car, his dead-eyed stare fixed on Jimmy.
Then—bang bang bang!—a beefy-looking hand rapped on the passenger window, making Lina jump and shove Jimmy away. The tow truck’s door was suddenly wrenched open.
“Okay, kids! Party’s over!”
Troy, one of Chad’s greaser cronies, grabbed Jimmy by the collar and hauled him out of the truck.
“Hey! STOP!”
Troy and the others laid into Jimmy hard, like he was nothing more than a punching bag, while Lina screamed, helpless inside.
Chad strolled around to the driver’s side and slid into Jimmy’s seat beside her.
“Get away from me!” Lina yelled.
“Aww, come on now, Princess. Don’t be like that.”
“You call off your dogs!”
“I could do that,” Chad said, smirking. “But let me first get a little backseat bingo. What do you say?”
Then he saw the flask sitting on the dashboard.
“Well, look-ee here. You been breakin’ the law?”
He unscrewed the cap and took a greedy swig, not even glancing at the inscription. Pocketing the flask in one of the pockets of his letterman jacket like it had always belonged to him, he turned toward Lina again, eyes dark with intent.
Behind them, the sounds of Jimmy’s beating carried on—thuds, grunts, now accompanied by Lina’s desperate cries.
“So you’re a rich guy now?”
Troy rifled through Jimmy’s pockets, pulling out the remaining cash the well-dressed man had given him earlier that day.
He counted it quick. Jimmy spat blood in his face.
“That’s my money!”
Troy silenced him with a sharp hook to the jaw and held up the bloodied bills like a trophy.
“Come on, Johnson! Let’s hit the Crazy Horse. Drinks are on Jimmy here!”
But Chad wasn’t finished. He was still trying to force himself onto Lina, gripping her arm tightly, yanking her closer.
He cranked up the radio, Link Wray’s snarling guitar filling the truck, drowning her out.
Lina fought back with everything she had. The struggle was a blur—grunts, curses, fists. Then something changed. Chad froze.
Whatever Lina had just said, it hit him like a gut punch.
His face went pale. He backed away, slowly, stunned.
“Let’s get the hell outta here!” he barked to his crew.
Troy gave Jimmy one final, vicious kick to the ribs before retreating.
“Maybe think twice before you start flashin’ money around!”
Their car tore off in a plume of dust and exhaust, leaving Jimmy choking on blood and gravel.
“They’re gonna need a ring job,” he rasped, spitting red into the dirt.
Lina ran to his side, shaken, her dress torn. She knelt beside him as he struggled to sit upright.
1982
Jimmy—older now, scarred in body and memory, stood on High Ridge once again. The same vast ridgelines stretched before him, ghostly in the dusk.
“Do you think when we’re older, we’ll still be parked up here, watching the same sunset?”
“Won’t be the same sunset, though.”
He took a long swig from the same steel hip flask, the words “’Til the sun grows cold” still etched into its side. But no amount of booze could stop the memories from pouring in like rain through a leaky roof.
1959
Bruised and bloodied, Jimmy walked Lina to her front gate. He held her gently and kissed her neck, but froze when he noticed red scratch marks on her skin.
“What the hell?”
“Forget it, Jimmy.”
“He’s an animal!”
“He’s a bastard. But what can we do?”
“He’s not getting away with it. I’ll do jail time if I have to.”
“Jimmy, please. I don’t want you getting involved. And don’t even think about calling the cops.”
“You know there’s no point. Johnson’s dad is the county sheriff.”
“He’ll find someone else eventually.”
“He’ll kill me before he does. And he’ll get away with it too—he always hides behind that shiny badge.”
“Maybe we’ll just have to be more careful.”
“I’m not living in fear of him.”
“Then go on and kiss me.”
He did, gingerly, mouth swollen and raw. She paused, suddenly noticing blood on her lip.
“I’m sorry. Here.”
He dabbed it with a handkerchief. She pushed his hand away, pulling him close again.
From behind the curtains, Mr. Brody watched them quietly, smoking a cigarette, his face lit only by the white moon.
Later that night, Jimmy parked behind Holden’s Garage and slipped into the house.
In the sitting room, the black-and-white television flickered. The Tom Romano Show was wrapping up.
“Now folks,” Tom crooned, “join me for one last song before we draw the curtain on the day.”
As the music played, Jimmy found his father asleep in his armchair. Two empty bottles sat on the table beside him.
Jimmy gathered them up and carried them to the kitchen.
The screen faded to the national anthem, then to the familiar white test screen.
Jimmy helped his father to bed, pulled off his boots and socks, and laid a thin blanket over him. The old man’s WWII uniform swayed on the back of the door as Jimmy shut it gently behind him.
The moonlight kept Jimmy awake that night.
So did the busted lip. The aching ribs.
He sat up and reached into his windbreaker for the brochure from earlier, the one from Cal-Neva.
Jimmy stared at the image on the front: a dreamlike resort nestled between tall pines, its A-frame entrance like something out of a mystery novel.
He stared at it so hard, he hoped it might visit him in his dreams.
Then, after taking a quick gulp of water from the glass on his bedside table, Jimmy slid back under the covers and closed his eyes as a thin beam of moonlight cut across his bruised face—like the state line dividing California and Nevada.